Standing On Yesterday
by TheJesusFreak777
Summary: Harry's world seems to be falling apart around him, and he can't help but wonder if it's because of him. But can help come from unlikely places?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So I recently was inspired to write this. I'm sorry if it's solemn and depressing or anything like that, because that honestly wasn't my goal, but I'm sort of ticked off right now for a lot of different reasons, so if it gets grim and bleak or angry, I apologize. I'm also not really one for next-generation stuff, but I'm trying this. I'm not very satisfied with the ending, but I think it's okay. Please review.**

* * *

I stepped through the door of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, making certain to wipe my feet on the doormat. Ginny would have a fit if I tracked in any mud.

"Where have you been?" a soft voice asks from the dining room.

"Huh?" I ask, hanging my jacket up before going in. Ginny sat at the end of the table, her hands folded in front of an untouched plate. James, who was seven, sat at her right and Albus, his younger brother, sat beside him. Little Posy sat on Ginny's left. Her feet didn't yet touch the ground. Teddy sat farther apart from them and said nothing.

"I said," Ginny repeats, her voice louder and harder this time, "where have you been?"

"Work," I say, sitting down next to Posy and kissing her on the cheek. "This food looks delicious."

"It is," Albus chimes in.

"We ate earlier," adds James.

Ginny's glare is sharp as flint and as volatile as a Killing Curse. It _is_ late, but I hadn't realized how late. I'd gotten wrapped up in my new case.

I clear my throat. "Why don't you all go to bed?" I ask quietly. "It's late, and we're going Christmas shopping tomorrow. Go get some rest."

"It's only ten," Teddy objects for the first time. Like Ginny, his plate still had food on it. As I watch, he stabs a potato with the ferocity of someone contemplating genocide.

"Teddy, you're a guest here and while you're staying here I'd appreciate it if you obeyed the rules," I say coolly. He glares at me and follows James, Albus, and Lily. Outside in the hall I hear a door slam.

"Was that necessary?" Ginny demands once they are gone.

"What are you talking about?" I ask, unable to quench my own rising anger. "He's a guest here and it's time for him to go to bed and just because he's fourteen doesn't mean he can stay awake later."

"That's not what I was talking about," she snaps.

"Could you elaborate then, and tell me what you were talking about?"

"It's ten o'clock! You just now got home!"

"I was at work!" I shut my eyes for a moment and see a blinding green light, a roof collapsing. But when I open them again I just see my wife, angry and upset.

"Really?" she demands. "Because I was watching Rose and Hugo all day, too, and Ron came by and picked them up at seven. So why were you there three more hours?"

"Ginny-"

"Is there a woman?" she asks.

"Ginny-"

"If there's a woman, I'll get out right now, Harry, and I can file a divorce in no time-"

"There's not another woman!" I explode. "I seriously was at work, okay? I had some extra stuff to do, I got a new assignment, and I didn't realize I stayed that late." I stayed so late talking to the therapist, I add silently.

She gives me a hard look for several seconds before sighing. "You're not lying."

"Why would I lie to you?" I ask softly.

"I need you to come home earlier," Ginny says. "At least by seven."

"Ginny, do you even understand my job? It's a great job, and I get paid for it, and I love what I do." I meet her eyes. I do love being an Auror. It's fun. It pays well. It's what I do.

"Do you love me?" she counters. "Do you love us? How about your kids? Teddy? Because it feels like you don't, and it feels like you're never here, and it feels like you don't love us."

"I love you!" I gasp, horrified. I stand up. "I love you more than anything!"

"This isn't about me," Ginny murmurs. "You were supposed to talk to Teddy today."

"Talk to Teddy?" I repeat.

"You don't remember?" She sounds irritated. "He asked you yesterday if he could talk to you, and you said you would today, but you never did, Harry."

"I'm sorry."

"Tell him that," she snaps. My heart sinks like a stone when she adds, "Talk to him, too!"

I eat alone that night and when I go to bed and try to kiss Ginny goodnight, she rolls over and away from me. I sigh. After a few seconds, she says, "It's not because you're late. You're kind of absent around here, Harry. And if you love Teddy at all, or even relatively like him, or feel any kind of debt to his parents, you need to get a grip."

With that, my wife turns off the lamp.

"I still love you, you know," she adds. "I'm pretty sure we all do, but you really have to talk to him."

My heart sinks lower in my chest, but I say, "I'll talk to him tomorrow when we're out, okay?" In all honesty, talking to Teddy is last thing I want. I don't want to talk about his parents, or the war, or anything, really. But I would have to eventually.

* * *

It's freezing in Diagon Alley, with snow billowing around on the wind and coating the world with a thin layer of white dust. Faces peek down at us from shops and apartments. Lily squirms in my arms and when I set her down, she teeters along with us on short legs. I love my family, I really do. I love them more than anything. James is more and more like the old Fred and George every day, but he couldn't possibly know that. Albus wouldn't hurt a fly. Lily is everything like Ginny. Teddy is the only difficult one.

Teddy. I'm supposed to talk to Teddy.

I already know what he's going to ask me about, but it doesn't help me brace myself for the questions, or his reaction, or how much he'll probably hate me for not telling him sooner.

Ginny turns to me. "I'm going to go take James, Albus, and Lily to get fitted for cloaks. Teddy, do you want to come with me or go with Harry and pick out something for Christmas?"

It takes all my willpower and self-control not to sigh aloud. Ginny meets my eyes and then gives a questioning look to Teddy. He raises a blue eyebrow, sighs, and says rather reluctantly, "I'll go with Harry." He doesn't want to talk, either, I guess.

"Can I go with Teddy, too?" James asks eagerly.

"No," Ginny says firmly. "You need fitted for new robes."

I'm about to ask them when and where we'll meet afterwards, but Ginny says to me, "Keep up with him-he's already leaving."

I turn around and curse under my breath. Teddy was already walking away and down the street. "Wait up!" I yell, but either he doesn't hear or more likely doesn't care, because he keeps going. "We'll meet later," I say to Ginny hastily before chasing after my godson.

"What do you think you're doing?" I demand when I catch up with him.

"I'm going to go see George," Teddy says, disparity obvious in his voice. "Wish him a Merry Christmas, you know, say hello to Freddie and Roxanne."

"Good idea," I say. "You can pick something out at the shop, too, if you want, and you'll get it for Christmas."

"Harry," he says calmly, "I'm fourteen. I don't need you to hover over me every second."

"I'm not hovering."

"Right. You're never hovering, are you? Never." There's an edge to his voice that makes me uncomfortable, but I'm not even sure what he's implying.

We push through the doors of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes a few minutes later and into the crowds of people inside. Business certainly is booming this time of the year. Behind the register I see Freddie, who is thirteen, ringing up customers as the line grows all the longer.

"Let's find George," I suggest. But Teddy's no longer listening and already slipping easily through the crowd. I push past people after him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I ask him over the sounds inside.

He whips around, people crowding at us on every side. He's angry. Very. He stands my height, fists clenched at his side, face reddening. "What the hell are _you_ doing?" he shouts, but from all the noise inside, barely anyone casts us anything more than a glance.

"Teddy-"

"Just stay out of my fucking life, okay? It's obviously what you want, right?"

I'm too startled to reprimand him for his language, let alone make a reasonable reply. Instead I stand stupidly in the store, my mouth gaping open. He turns away from me, disgusted, and begins to make his way to the front of the store. I manage to squeeze through the hordes of people and catch up to him outside.

"Teddy!"

"You never listen to a damn word I say, you act like I'm not even here! Just leave me alone!"

Ginny, why did you do this to me? I find my voice. "Dammit, Teddy, just listen to me-"

"I've got all the time in the world, just talk!" He stops and turns around to glare at me.

I stare back, at a lost for words.

"That's what I thought," he says bitterly before continuing down the street.

"Teddy," I plea desperately, but he ignores me, giving me only one option: follow him. I walk beside him but he pays no mind, and he leads us to the Leaky Cauldron. He sits down at a table and very hesitantly I sit across from him.

"Ginny told you to talk to me, didn't she?" he asks accusingly.

"Yeah," I admit.

Hannah brings us butterbeer and we drink in silence. At last I get over my nerves, cough, and ask, "Look, I told you I'd talk to you. So here's me trying not to be an ass and you trying to talk to me and the both of us trying to be reasonable."

He stares at me, an odd look on his face, before saying, "You're really bad at being a father. You know that, right?"

"I love my kids," I say hotly.

"Let me elaborate. You're a shitty father to _me_."

"You're not really my son," I point out, which sounds a lot worse than it had in my mind.

"Right," Teddy muses. "You don't treat me like family, which is obviously the reason my parents made you my damn godfather."

"I'm a good father."

"You're okay. Ron's a good dad, though. Even George is a better dad than you, and he's not even any fun."

"He used to be fun," I say quietly. "He used to be a lot of fun. Hasn't been for...for a long time, I guess." I try to keep my voice level.

Teddy sits back and looks at me appraisingly. "You don't like me," he decides. "George likes me. Even Ron likes me, and Ginny, too. But you... You don't."

I lower my eyes.

"Why not?" he asks, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

I finish off my butterbeer. "I-Your parents. I loved your parents."

"Yeah," he says, giving a halfhearted laugh. "No shit. Otherwise you would've dumped me on someone's doorstep or never let me come over, right? Because I live with my grandmother, you would have let me stay there if you didn't love my parents."

"Your parents were great people," I say softly. "They were always there for me. And I guess I was for them, but not enough. When your mother was pregnant, Lupin-your father-he tried to leave."

"Leave?" Teddy echoes, leaning forward. He has a hurt look in his eyes. "What do you mean? Leave! Because he didn't love me, is that it?"

"He was afraid you would be like him," I say quickly. "A werewolf."

My godson straightens. "Well, I'm not, am I?" he says coolly. "He sounds like a bastard if that's why he wanted to leave."

"Your father was not a bastard," I say. "He loved you. He was one of the bravest men I knew."

"Yeah, yeah, I know all that shit. It's what you tell me every time I ask about them," Teddy says with a dismissive wave of his hand. "You always act like yesterday is this huge deal but you never bring it down to terms. So why were my parents so great?"

"Is this what you wanted to ask me about?" I inquired.

"Yeah. I mean, what else would I ask you about?"

"Dating advice?" I offer, grinning.

"You're kidding, right? I ask George that kind of stuff."

"George? I was a ladies' man be-"

"George said you've kissed like two girls that he knows. And George-well, you know George. Anyway, answer the question."

"Right. Why were your parents great? They loved us. Your father was brilliant. He taught me how to conjure a Patronus. He taught me Defense for a year." I take a deep breath, looking at him if he wants to add anything, but he doesn't. So I go on. "He tried to keep me out of trouble, I think, and he helped me with my godfather, S-"

"Sirius," Teddy breaks in. "Your godfather."

"Right. They all were really good friends with my parents. Lupin was always there for me, really, and he was really smart. Good at tactics. He tried to get me to quit Disarming people-said it was too obvious. Said that if I get attacked, I should use a Killing Curse, because that's less expected from someone like me, when I'm wanted by Death Eaters."

"And my mother?" Teddy asks eagerly.

"She was in Hufflepuff-"

"I was almost Sorted into Hufflepuff!" Teddy exclaims.

"Really? I was almost in Slytherin, but that's another story. Tonks went to school with Charlie-Ginny's brother-and was Sirius's cousin, I think. She was a Metamorphmagus, like you."

"I already know this stuff, Harry! Tell me about her!"

"She was really clumsy-always knocked stuff over. And a really gifted Auror. After Sirius died, she-she got depressed, and we thought it was because she loved Sirius, but it was because she loved your father and he wouldn't marry her. And then when they got married, I'd never seen her so happy! She was a really great person."

"Why didn't you ever tell me about them sooner?" Teddy doesn't sound angry now as much as hurt. "You might have known them and loved them, but they were my parents, Harry. I deserved to know."

"I never liked going back to then," I admit. "It was difficult. George is a perfect example of how badly the war changed us. And I didn't want to-I didn't want to go back to then."

"Don't be stupid," he scoffs. "You're not going to turn into George just by remembering! We wouldn't let you!"

"Teddy, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Am I absent?"

He finishes his drink and frowns. "I guess maybe a little. I'm here nearly every day, and I've noticed you're getting very wrapped up in work. It worries Ginny, and you never really replied when I sent you a letter saying I made Seeker."

My throat tightens. "I'm sorry."

"Your kids don't notice, but they will."

"You're a good kid, Teddy."

"I guess so," he says, shrugging. "Thanks for talking to me."

"Do you still want something for Christmas? We'll probably meet Ginny later."

"Nothing could be better than the things you just told me, but I really would like to go see George, Angelina, Freddie, and Roxanne."

"I'm sorry," I repeat as we leave.

"Don't worry about it," he says dismissively. "You finally told me, right? I mean, yesterday's still in the past, but I respect it if you don't want to talk about it. But you have to about some things."

My godson is fourteen years old. He is a Metamorphmagus, a Gryffindor, a Seeker, and my godson. But most of all he is braver than I could ever be, because he pulled me out of the darkness that was pulling me under.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I had some questions on if I was going to continue writing this, so I decided to. I know it ends really poorly on the last chapter and I was thinking on expanding on it. So thanks to everyone who reads, reviews, favorites, follows this. Just know that I appreciate it.**

**2.**

"I talked to my godson about his parents. He took it well."

The clock ticks in the background. My hand twitches.

"He took it well?"

"He took it alright. He was upset at first. Got over it. We're on good terms now. He's a bit odd, to be honest. Don't think I was like that."

She straightens her glasses. My leg twitches.

"You know, Harry, I didn't think you were ready to marry and have a family when you did."

"It was now or never."

"Now is now or never," she corrects. "Have you had any violent tendencies? Nightmares? Poor sleep?"

"It's been fourteen years. I'm okay now."

There's a bottle of Draught of Peace in my locker. Sounds of quill scratching on paper.

"No nightmares at all, Harry?"

"I don't have to do this, do I? Talk to a shrink?"

"It's recommended for what you do, Harry. So yes, you have to do this. Nightmares?"

"None," I lie.

She looks at me disbelievingly and scribbles something onto her clipboard. "You're physically healthy, but your psychological health is just as, if not more so, important."

"I'm healthy."

"Yes."

Outside I see a hawk nosedive to its prey on the ledge. My hands clench and unclench.

"Physically. Psych is not my specialty. I heal by magic. I only worked with Muggle doctors for a year. I can identify when you are struggling."

Drum my fingers on the chair arm.

"Would a Pensieve work?"

"Pardon?"

"Could I use a Pensieve to remove my memories?"

"Muscle memory is still there. Your brain will react to certain things even if you don't remember why."

The hawk's talons wrap around a small rodent.

"I don't trust myself."

"You shouldn't."

Breath catches in my throat.

"You're unstable, Harry. It's a fact. I can recommend you a Muggle psychiatrist, who will know specifically what to do with your situation."

"My situation?"

"You have PTSD. Post-traumatic stress disorder. I have a Muggle friend, an American, who fought a Muggle war in Iraq. He has the same disorder. He tried to strangle his girlfriend. I've done all I can do to help you, Harry. The psychiatrist may have a better solution."

The hawk digs its razor-sharp beak into the creature.

"I don't sleep in the same room as her."

"Pardon?"

"I wait until she falls asleep. Then I go and sleep on the couch, and wake up before she does, and get back in bed."

"Why?"

"I don't trust myself to be asleep when it- When it happens."

She sighs. "I will give you the telephone number to the psychiatrist. Get in touch with her. You have a phone? Know how to use one, at least?"

The hawk swallows. It shakes out its feathers before taking off again.

"I was raised by Muggles. I use a phone to talk to my cousin. I can use it."

"I'm glad to hear it, Harry. And how is Ginny?"

I stare at her for a long moment. "She's well."

"No nightmares? Good sleep habits? And her eating habits?"

"You should remember you aren't her therapist anymore," I say coolly.

"And how are you with the kids? How is she?"

"The kids are fine."

"Your superiors," she says after a few tense moments, "told me they were worried your predicament was getting in the way you function at work."

"My superiors? I'm the head of the Auror Department, I'm my own superior-"

"The Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, provided me with a file from your last case in Amsterdam-"

"You have no right to that-"

She clears her throat and opens a folder from the table. She straightens her glasses and begins to read. "'Potter, Longbottom, Dawlish, and Weasley were in Amsterdam tracking down Mayalda Manicra, Scandinavian Dark witch. Three casualties of Dutch wizards. Collateral damage-'"

"You can stop now," I say, raising my voice.

"'Collateral damage-four Muggle deaths. Confrontation occurred five days into the investigation and Weasley was put under the Cruciatus Curse administered by Manicra. Dawlish was Stunned. Longbottom Disarmed and Stunned Manicra before taking her into custody. Potter,'" she glances up at me, her eyes hard, "'was taken to Amsterdam Wizarding International Hospital after blacking out during the arrest and sustaining a deep head wound.'"

"Are you done?"

"Can you explain what happened?"

"I had a... I had an attack, okay? Now stop jumping down my goddamn throat."

"Harry, I haven't given you the number for-"

But I'm already outside.

* * *

London is cold this time of year. Just before Christmas, when the sky is gray and clouded, and the city hibernates, and the people live in silence. There's something comforting about it, about the entirety and solitude of the winter days.

It's Christmas Eve. I sit down on a bench on the edge of a park that was once green, but is now covered in a thin layer of ice and snow. On a bench to my right a homeless man reeks of alcohol. I sit on the edge and prop my head up with my hand, watching the cars go by. The busy or bad parents who haven't finished their shopping, the relatives visiting eachother, waiting for the line to speed up.

A woman in a black peacoat and a bleach blonde pixie cut sits down on the other side of my bench, talking on her cell. She has a styrofoam cup of coffee in one hand. American. Only Americans drink coffee. She hasn't said anything yet, because apparently the other person is talking on the other end of the line.

"Owen, listen to me-"

There's a long pause.

"Owen, I'm not saying that, I'm saying that I'm in London visiting your mom and brothers right now, and your mom is worried sick that you're not home yet."

"What do you mean, your flight got delayed?"

"So you won't be home until later? How much later? You're leaving at six, about three or four hours from Morocco... I'll be at the airport at nine, in case you get in earlier, okay, Owen?" She sounds agitated.

Everyone's problems become crystal clear in this time of the year, I've noticed. My depression heightens. Ginny's patience becomes nothing more than a lingering shadow. Hermione's fear seems to multiply. Ron stays typically the same. It's kind of surprising that he's the one who stayed normal. But even he didn't. Not really.

"You're flying in to Heathrow, right? Okay. Love you too. See you when you come in." She hangs up and sighs, slouching on the bench. After a few seconds she reaches into her peacoat and pulls out a pack of cigarettes and lights one. Then, for the first time, she acknowledges my presence. "Want a smoke?"

"Uh, no. I, er, don't want cancer."

"You won't get cancer from one smoke," she says scornfully. "Besides, you look like you need one, or a drink, anyway. It's Christmas Eve, and unless you're, I don't know, a hobo, or your life's really fucked, you should be home."

"And you're a continent away from your home," I counter, but I take the cigarette. She she lights it and I take a drag on it before coughing. "This is awful."

"Well, I'm not a continent away from my home," she says. "I'm engaged to a Brit. And we're getting married soon. And I'm a student here. So no, I'm not a continent away."

"Thanks for the cigarette," I say, still wheezing. I throw it away in the trash can next to the bench.

"It's not for everyone. Probably should've mentioned that."

"Well, my life's not messed up and I'm not a hobo. I just got off work, is all."

"Hmm," she says. "My fiancé hasn't even left work yet. He's a military pilot in Morocco."

"One of my sons is interested in planes. He thinks they're exciting," I say, thinking of James's recent obsession with Muggle mechanics.

"Owen took me for a fly once-he owns a Cessna. It was shitty. I hated it. Really fucking bad. I puked all over him when we landed." She laughs. "As soon as his term's up in the military, we're moving to the States. My dad owns a lot of land in Alaska, there's an airstrip. Owen likes it."

I wonder why I'm having a conversation with a complete stranger, but no harm can come from it. "I've never been to the States. It sounds nice there."

"I like it better here," she says.

"Merry Christmas," I say, standing. "My wife's probably wondering where I am. Good luck with your fiancé."

"Merry Christmas," she says, smiling.

* * *

It must be nice to have no worries aside from when you have to be at the airport. It must be nice to be as carefree as she seems, as perfectly planned and good your life must be sorted out. It must be a peaceful life. It has to be great when you're so certain in your life that you'll risk a cancer stick.

I make it home just as darkness is beginning to fall. Inside Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, a fire is blazing in the hearth and everyone is laughing and smiling. All the Weasleys are there, as well as Neville, and Luna and Rolf and the twins. It was crowded. It was loud. The kids were running around, upstairs, downstairs, left and right. Everyone offers me their greetings. I squeeze through to the kitchen, where Hermione, Angelina, Fleur, Hannah, Luna, Audrey, and Ginny were chatting. Drinks and food were set out on the kitchen table, so I knew that we wouldn't be having a traditional dinner tonight.

"Oh, Harry!" Ginny says. "I was wondering when you were getting back."

"Just got back from work," I say, forcing a smile.

Hermione frowns. "Ron didn't work today..."

I give her a warning look but Ginny picks up.

"Really?" she muses.

"I had paperwork," I explain quickly. "From Amsterdam."

"Has Neville told you the news?" Hannah asks me, smiling brightly.

"Er, no, he hasn't told me any news," I say, picking up a flute of wine. "He mentioned something about a job at Hogwarts, but he hasn't mentioned anything newsworthy."

"We're having a baby!" Hannah says excitedly.

"Congratulations!" I say, genuinely happy for my friends.

Then her face takes on a baffled look. "Job at Hogwarts? What are you talking about?"

"Maybe, uh, maybe Neville could answer your questions," I say hastily. "Ginny, why've we got the alcohol out where the kids can get to it?"

She sighs. "Harry, why do you think we're in here? We'll keep an eye on it. They won't pick any up."

"Okay," I say. "Congrats again, Hannah. Have any of you seen Teddy? I didn't see him when I was coming in."

"He's around here somewhere, Harry, don't worry about him," Audrey, Percy's wife, says dismissively.

"Thanks." I shuffle back out of the kitchen to the living room with my wine and sit down next to George. He glances at me and the drink before going back to his conversation with his son. "That, Freddie, is why pulling an all-nighter is a bad idea when you're a virgin."

"What are you talking about?"

"Giving parental advice. Freddie, where's Roxanne? I haven't seen her for a few minutes." He suddenly looked very worried. Roxanne had been born just under a year ago.

"Angelina has her," I reassure him.

"Thanks. Freddie, go find Teddy and bug him. Ha. Your names rhyme."

Freddie stands and goes upstairs.

"What kind of advice was that?" I ask curiously.

"He's thirteen, he can handle dating advice," George says. When I set my drink down on the table, he says quickly, "Move it your other side, I don't want to be near it. Eighteen months sober to the date."

"Congratulations," I reply. Everyone has good news today but me. Even the American Muggle, who would be seeing her fiancé for the first time in Merlin knows how long. I just have therapy.

"Aye, I heard you blacked out at work," he goes on, suddenly serious. "You should talk to someone about that, you know."

"Don't say it loud," I mutter. "Ginny doesn't know, and I'd like to keep it that way."

George stares at me hard for several seconds before grinning. "Fine. So you need to stop by in the shop soon. We've made some changes since you were last there."

"I'll try," I say, sipping my wine. "I've been busy lately."

"Really? I haven't. Hired more staff, so my schedule isn't crowded. Bloody hell, I can give Teddy a summer job, if you want."

"You can take that up with him," I say, grinning. "He's been-"

Suddenly there came the sound of feet running down the stairs. Everyone looks up. James stands in front of us, white as a sheet.

"James?" I ask, standing. "What's wrong, James?"

"It's-It's Teddy." His voice shakes. "You should come see."


	3. Chapter 3

**Special thanks to Kekule Salvador, xSiriusly Insanex, and Goddess of Fangirls for reviewing that last chapter. I'm not all that happy with how this chapter goes, but I have developed a weird thrillerish plot that I'm going to attempt to put into effect, starting here. Please review!**

**3.**

* * *

I stare at James for a long moment. His hands shake. His eyes are wide. Behind me, I hear Bill mutter something to George, too low for me to pick up.

"What's going on, Harry?" Ron asks, standing.

"Get Hannah," I say brusquely, pushing past him and James to the stairs. Upstairs. Upstairs. Teddy's upstairs. I catch a glimpse of blonde hair in the study. "Victoire, where's Teddy?" I try to fight the panic rising inside me.

She points to something behind me. I see a gleam of fear in her blue eyes. Heart sinking, I turn.

"Oh my God," I manage, running forward.

"Harry? What's going on?" Ron asks. I hear his footsteps trekking up the stairs, but I don't stop.

Teenagers have never really been this stupid, have they? I wrack my brain for the last time I ever tried performing spells like this and come up short. I try to remember the last time I did anything like this.

Teddy lies on the floor. He lies on the floor, his limbs awkwardly bent, a thin trickle of blood running down his chin.

Ron is coming up the stairs, but he stops when he sees. "What happened?" he demands. He turns on Victoire. "What happened?"

"I-I don't know-"

"Get Hannah!" I snap at her.

"She's coming," Victoire says.

"Get out of here."

"But-"

"Are you even listening? Get out. Now." My voice is hard.

The brat stares at me for a few seconds, mouth opening and closing like she can't believe what I'm saying, before pushing past Ron and running downstairs.

"Why Hannah?"

"She knows a bit about Healing. More than anyone else here. Isn't she going back soon to get retrained as a Healer?" I crouch on the floor next to my godson and feel for a pulse. It's there. I breathe a sigh of relief.

"Looks like an offensive spell," Ron says.

"Defensive. There're marks on the opposite wall from spells. He must've been dueling with the others. Where the hell is Hannah?"

"I'm coming," she answers, her voice sharp. Hannah stops when she sees Teddy. "We need to get him to St. Mungo's."

* * *

"Take him to Spell Damage."

_"He's okay, isn't he?"_

"We're not sure yet-"

_"You bloody well better learn. That's my son-"_

"Sir-"

_"I'm the Head of the Auror Office and Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and if he gets anything less than the best care I can have your jobs-"_

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave for this."

_"I've got every goddamn right to stay-"_

"Sir, I'm about to cut your son open to allow him to breathe easier without his lungs filling. I need you to leave immediately."

_"I'm staying!"_

"Legally I'm not allowed to perform a procedure like this in front of family! He will go into respiratory failure if you don't leave!"

"Pulse is slowing!" another Healer yells.

"Get him out of here, now!"

And suddenly two Healers are dragging me out, and I am spewing profanities over my shoulder, and I see the first Healer raise her wand and begin to work.

_"Tell me when he's okay," I plea._

"We will, sir. We're doing our best to help your son."

* * *

He's not my son.

I've been sitting in the waiting room of the Spell Damage surgical wing for over an hour, and the only thing I can think of is the fact rest I told them Teddy was my son. He's not my son, and he never has been. We aren't related, we don't connect, and he hates me. He doesn't even technically live with us, and when he visits he stays in one of the guest rooms. There's not a technical "Teddy's room" at Number 12, Grimmauld Place. He doesn't talk to anyone but James and Albus, and that's mostly because they're little and they like him. He's not family. Nowhere close to being my son.

Everyone from Grimmauld Place is here, except for the kids and Luna and Rolf, because the latter two had offered to watch them until all of this was sorted out. It's disturbingly quiet, because we're the only ones here, and the only sound that can be heard is Ron occasionally coughing, because apparently he's getting over bronchitis.

"It's Christmas Eve, and we're stuck in a hospital," Ginny sighs.

"At least we're together," I say jokingly. She gives a short, dry laugh and rests her head on my shoulder.

"Who did this?" Percy asks at last.

"One of the kids," Ron says. "I'd say one of the older ones. Freddie or Victoire."

"Victoire didn't do this," Bill retorts. "She's only in her second year. They don't even learn about spells like this until fourth year."

"They were dueling. I'd say it's one of them," Ron says levelly.

"We'll find out when we get home," George responds, "but it wasn't Freddie. Freddie's not stupid enough to do something like this."

"If I remember correctly, weren't you stupid enough to do things like this, George?" Bill shoots back. George stands aggressively.

"Shut up! Shut up, all of you!" Hermione cries suddenly, and Ginny lifts her head up to look at her. In fact, everyone stops to stare at her. She's shaking, tears in her eyes. Ron wraps his arms around her and she cries into his shoulder. He glares from George to Bill.

"You guys can all go home," I say. "I mean, the only people who need to be here are Ginny and I."

Everybody looks at me as if I'd just grown another head or something, and for a very long few moments the only sounds are Hermione crying and Ron whispering comfort to her. If anything, Teddy is more of Ron's son than mine. Teddy was right. I'm not a good dad, or a good godfather.

"You're kidding, right?" Percy asks. "We aren't leaving."

"You're family, Harry," Angelina adds kindly.

I stare at them. Teddy could be dying and for all I know it's because I wasn't there for him.

Ginny leans over. "I should go see Andromeda about this, Harry. I'll be back in a few minutes, okay?"

I kiss her cheek before she goes. I shut my eyes and lean back in my chair, feeling a headache throb behind my temples. Teddy isn't my son, and I said he was. Maybe he means something to me, deep down, but I don't know what.

Outside, in the hall, I hear Hannah yelling at Neville. "Why didn't you tell me you got offered a job at Hogwarts?"

"It's not important, I turned it down anyway-"

"And why didn't you tell me-"

"It's not important!"

"I found out from Harry!"

"Quit bitching about it! It's not a big deal!"

I hear footsteps leading down the hall, and begin to fade away. I glance at Ron, who shrugs. Neville comes in several long moments later, his face red. He grabs he and Hannah's things and moves to leave. Before he does, though, he looks at me. "Thanks Harry," he says viciously. "Tell Teddy good luck or whatever, safe travels and decent prayers. Whatever."

"Don't be a dick, Neville," George says quietly.

"You know what? Shov-"

"What happened to you?" George asks bluntly, standing from where he sat next to Angelina, a disgusted look on his face.

"What happened to me?" Neville shouted back, and suddenly I am very self conscious of how loud he is being, despite just us here. Several Healers are watching through the doors of their wards. "Same thing that happened to you! Got some _girl_ pregnant-"

"Leave Angelina out of it," George snapped, his face reddening.

"I'm having a midlife crisis at thirty-two, and you have the _audacity_ to ask me-"

George hits Neville so hard his head reels back, and I start to stand, but Ron is already trying to break it up. Neville gets in a good blow that sends George lurching back, but by then Ron has both of them calmed down enough. Neville's knuckles are bleeding but he doesn't seem to notice. He just leaves.

Hermione is crying again.

* * *

Neville had no right to say that stuff to George.

I mean, I get that Neville's life is really bad at the moment, because the only reason he's with Hannah is because he feels obligated to, because apparently he got her pregnant after only a month or so of dating, and he would be much happier without her. Also, the only reason he didn't accept the job at Hogwarts is because being an Auror pays better, which I get. And he wanted to be there for the kid.

So basically Neville's life is bad, but he's the opposite of George and Angelina.

George and Angelina started dating about six months after the War ended, and they got pretty serious fast. I'm not really sure what happened, because George was bordering alcoholic at the time, a line he crossed not long after, had basically retired from business, and slept around. But when they started dating, some of his life cleared up. And then she found out she was pregnant, and so they got married, because they loved each other. It made sense for them.

But not Neville. It'll never make sense for Neville.

* * *

A few hours pass. It's Christmas Day. Ginny falls asleep again. Fleur leaves to go get her kids home, but not before apologizing profusely.

"You 'ave kids, 'arry, I am very 'orry, but I 'eed to zeck on mine."

"No problem, Fleur."

It stays quiet for a really long time. Slowly everyone leaves, and it is just Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and I.

Why is this taking so long? Teddy can't be that bad off, can he?

Our wives are asleep. Ron glances at me. "He'll be fine."

I hope so. I really do. Teddy's not my son. He should be. I wonder how Sirius ever looked at me and thought I was his. At the very least I could be an uncle type figure. "How's Hermione?" I ask, trying to get my mind off of Teddy.

"She's doing better, thanks. A few days ago she had a scare while cooking. Cut her finger when she was chopping lettuce for salad-Hermione's fond of Muggle cooking, you know-and she almost lost the finger, she was just staring at it. Hugo came and got me and I fixed it up for her. The therapist here she sees just said it was an effect of the peace draughts she takes."

"We were mad to think we could do this," I say softly, almost to myself.

"Maybe you," Ron says lightly. "I'm not going to be at the Auror office much longer."

I stare at him. "You've only been there for what, a year and a half? Are you mad? We need you there."

"There are more important things than getting money," Ron snaps, suddenly angry. "You might not understand that."

"I have a family," I say hotly.

"No, you have a career," Ron answers, his voice colder than I ever remember. "And you wonder why you and Ginny are having problems. My family and me come before going around, blasting people off the map-"

"You think that's all we're doing?"

"Maybe if you _knew_ it's what we're doing, this wouldn't be happening right now, Harry. I'm going to go help George with the shop."

"George is sober now, you can stay," I snap.

"George hasn't been in that place for nearly five years! You think he'll go back now? You think he'll stay sober? It's over, Harry. We have families. We can't play hero forever. We can't act like doing this will actually help us. You sure as hell can't."

I stare at him, anger rising inside me like a coiled snake. He glares back. Blaming me for what happened to Teddy-that was insane. I'm too mad to even say anything, so I turn away from him.

A Healer comes by later and gives us an update on Teddy. "Your son is doing much better. Healer Lennox opened him up and relieved the pressure on his chest and got the fluid out of his lungs. We also found damage in his head, and we removed an aneurysm that probably formed when he fell. He is stable but critical."

"Is he okay?" Ginny asks fretfully.

"He should be fine, Mrs. Potter. If he stays stable for forty-eight hours, he will be able to go home."

"What kind of spell hit him?" I ask. "Could you tell?"

"It appeared to be some form of an Entrail-Expelling Curse," the Healer says, her voice quiet. "A defensive spell used only during professional duels. Our Spell Specialist said that she thought the curse was performed incorrectly."

"Thank you," I say, wiping my forehead. I'm so relieved I laugh.

"Because of his head injury and aneurysm, there might be some loss of memory, but only very recently, the last day or so."

"He'll be fine, though?" Ginny asks softly.

"He should be."

Ginny starts crying, and I feel guilty, because it wasn't like my son had almost just died. It's more like a friend almost just died, but not exactly. I kiss Ginny, and then the Healer leads us to go see Teddy.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Ayo, update here. Apologies for not updating for like a month. I've been wrapped up in stuff. (Stuff i.e. Edgar Allen Poe, Tolkien.) Also, check out TheThirdPew on YouTube, I'm advertising everyone, but you won't regret looking him up. Thanks to KekuleSalvador, Splashpaw, SarahNicolePotter2013, merwhopotterlock, DreamaLirit, Truenorth12, Patronus12, xSiriusly Insanex for reviewing. Hate Harry all you want. I despise my characterization of him.**

**4.**

* * *

_"Scars are souvenirs you never lose, the past is never far _  
_And did you lose yourself way out there?_  
_Did you get to be a star?_  
_Don't make you sad to know that life is more than who you are?_  
_Grew up way too fast and now there's nothing to believe _  
_Reruns all become our history_  
_A tired song keeps playing on a tired radio."_  
_-Name, The Goo Goo Dolls_

* * *

We're there when Teddy wakes up, some hour or so later. His eyes flicker open and shut before flying open, his eyes wide. I see pupils dilate, his hands wrap around the bed rail.

"W-What happened?" His voice is hoarse, like he hasn't used it in weeks. His eyes flicker across the room, his grip tightening around the rail.

The Healer, Healer Lennox, who I had yelled at earlier stands in the doorway with a clipboard.

"You don't remember?" Ginny asks quietly.

"R-Remember what? Why am I here?" His voice is rising, and I hear the fear in it. I look back at the Healer.

Lennox steps forward. "It's possible the aneurysm could have affected the part of his brain where his memory is."

"You remember us, don't you, Teddy?" Ginny pleas. The desperation in her voice sends a shiver down my spine.

"Yeah," he says, struggling to sit up. "Yeah, I remember you guys. I remember a bloody lot."

"Do you know what day it is?" Healer Lennox asks gently.

Teddy stares at her, his gaze unfocused. "December?"

"Can you get any more specific?" She asks.

"Beginning, right? Midterm at Hogwarts, I was about to come home, right?"

My heart sinks, and I look at Lennox, who gives me a small, encouraging nod. Ginny is crying.

"It's Christmas, Teddy," I manage, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Today's Christmas."

He looks lost for a long moment. "What happened?"

"It's a bit of a long story," I say, which is the biggest understatement I've ever made. I sit down in the edge of his bed. "You were hurt at the Christmas Eve party." The air is cool on my skin, and I put an arm around Ginny as she cries.

"I was hurt," Teddy echoes dully. His voice is flat. It makes me cringe. I look to Healer Lennox, who smiles sadly.

"You had an aneurysm," she says quietly. "As a complication to a curse you were hit by while dueling."

"Dueling? I was dueling? I don't-I don't even know how to duel-" His voice shakes. "What's going on? Tell me what's going on. Tell me," he pleas, the desperation in his voice acute. As the pause grows longer his voice rises. "Tell me!"

"We don't know what happened." Ginny begins to cry harder after I say this. "But you're okay, and that's what matters, Teddy."

"It's Christmas, Teddy," Ginny manages, her voice strained.

"Christmas," he echoes.

Lennox steps forward, sympathetic. "We want to keep you here overnight for observation. You're very lucky, Teddy, and we'll do further research as to what caused your accident."

Teddy looks like he might cry. He's scared. Small. Vulnerable. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I try to think as I would if James or Albus or Lily were hurt instead of Teddy. But I can't.

Teddy doesn't look like my son. Maybe if he wanted to, he would. Perhaps if he did, I could look at him like he belongs.

Ginny loves him. Ginny, who smiles at everyone she sees, who, when she was at the peak of her fame as a Chaser for the Harpies, would visit the children in St. Mungo's and kiss their foreheads when they cried. But that is how other people see her. I know better. I remember the fights. I remember her waking up in the night, screaming. Or her being kicked off of the Harpies because she tried to strangle her coach.

I don't see why Ginny doesn't go to a therapist and I do. It doesn't make much sense.

* * *

"So he doesn't remember?" Ron asks. He sounds both dubious and bewildered. He rolls his cigarette between his fingers before taking a drag.

I shake my head. We stand outside of St. Mungo's. Across the road, people are gathering in their homes, celebrating and singing alongside the angels. We are smoking. Yesterday a woman offered me lung cancer. I refused then. I don't now.

"That doesn't make any sense," Ron says.

My voice sounds hoarse. Perhaps it's from the cigarette, but I don't know. Maybe it's my nonexistent sympathy. "Lennox said he had an aneurysm. You got a light?"

I'm well through my fourth smoke, which is nothing more that a white stub. Ron hands me his pack of Marlboros and a lighter.

"How the hell does an Entrail-Expelling Curse give you an aneurysm?" When Ron's not around Hermione, he swears more. I've noticed it. When I mention it to him, he says it's because he wants to be better for her. I think it's because Ron's not completely honest with her.

"He fell. Can't those things happen when you fall?"

"You're the one who took med training, not me."

"Why are you quitting?" I ask suddenly.

"George," he says, as if it should be obvious.

"George isn't as important as what we do," I say stubbornly.

Ron glares at me. "I'm going to pretend you didn't say that."

The words are out, and as much as I wish I could take them back, I can't. "I didn't mean it," I say hastily.

Ron throws his cigarette on the ground and steps on it, reducing it to nothing but a gray smudge on the sidewalk. It reminds me of the clouds in the sky. "Don't try to lie to me, Harry."

"I'm not lying."

"You're a selfish bastard." He looks me in the eye for a few seconds before shifting his gaze back to the ground. "Hermione isn't here so we don't have to pretend, but she probably already knows."

I swallow. There's a lump in my throat and my mouth feels like sandpaper.

"You really think my job comes before my brother?" He looks at me, and I refuse to meet his eyes. He sounds dubious. Worried, even. We stay silent for a long time. I take a drag on the cigarette. "Yesterday you were late to your own party," he says quietly. "Where were you, Harry?"

I don't answer. The taste of ash fills my mouth and it's not from the cigarette.

Ron presses on. "Where were you?"

"Work."

"I find that hard to believe."

"It's the truth," I say.

"The truth my ass."

I don't meet his eyes. Across the road, a family gets out of a car to head into one of the townhouses. They are smiling, they are laughing. They are innocent. Their white teeth gleam.

"I was at my therapist's." This time I turn to look at Ron squarely. He drops his gaze to the ground. The guilt in that one gesture fills me with satisfaction that I can't explain.

"What did she say?"

"Not much," I lie.

"Did you ask her about Teddy?" he asks, defiance back in his eyes.

"The fuck's it got to you if I did," I mutter.

"Grow up," Ron says coldly. "It's not all about you. Quit acting like everyone died for you. 'Hi, my name's Harry Potter. I'm a bloody fucking orphan and too fucking blind to see how big of a dick I am and that nobody likes me.' Get a grip."

"What are you going to do, crucify me?"

"No," Ron snaps. "You'll start thinking you're God if we did. Quit acting like me quitting is the problem here. The problem here is that Teddy just almost died!"

I bite the inside of my cheek so hard that my mouth fills with blood. The only thing I can taste is ash. I stuff my sleeve in my mouth to stop the bleeding. Ron looks at me. His eyes are unsympathetic. Not even apologetic. Maybe he is right to be so.

I know he is right.

* * *

_Three Days Later_

"New case," Neville says, pushing the door open and walking into my office. He holds a thick file in one hand and in the other a cup of coffee. Ever since a job in Boston a year ago, Neville had taken a strong liking to coffee.

"Let me see it," I say, rubbing my temples to ease the pain behind them. He hands it over.

"Osric Spheer," Neville says. "Dark wizard. Ukrainian."

Ever since Neville's and Hannah's fight (which I inexplicably caused), Neville had a way of talking in fragments. He didn't say much around me anymore. Ron, who wouldn't be leaving the office for a few months, had told me that they were still together, but not well.

"What'd he do?"

"Nearly killed the Saudi Arabian Minister of Magic. Muggle baiting. Stole thousands of Galleons from some very influential people down there."

"Shouldn't Saudi Arabia be handling this, then? Or Ukraine?"

"Ukraine's Ministry crashed when they lost all the goblins their. They left Ukraine for Tajikistan, better smithy deals. Ukraine doesn't have a Ministry, sir."

_Sir_.

"I know," I say, but I hadn't really remembered any of it until Neville had mentioned it again. Ukraine's magic industry and ministry had collapsed a year ago. "So why isn't Saudi Arabia handling this situation?"

"Recently, as of last week, Spheer killed a witch who was part of the Order of the Phoenix in Wales." Neville opens the folder and pulls out a photograph of a woman. "She joined the Order a few weeks before V-Voldem-mort was defeated." His voice still shakes. "You didn't know her. Anyway, he killed her in her house in Wales."

"So that makes Spheer an international fugitive," I sigh. International affairs were always messy.

"Yeah. Jointed mission is what Saudi Arabia wants. It went through the Department of International Magical Cooperation. They're sending three Aurors here this week."

"Thanks, Neville."

He hesitates for a moment. "No problem, sir." He stands and leaves. It saddens me to know how much he blames me, even though I deserve it all.

Ron and I go to a Muggle diner for lunch. We order and sit in our booth and make small talk.

"How's Teddy?"

"He's coming home tomorrow. Lennox is still trying to determine if there's anything that could have affected his organs. How's Hermione?"

"Good. She hasn't had any nightmares for awhile, which is good."

"That's great," I say, genuinely happy for my friend. "Ginny wants to stop by and see you guys soon, but she can't seem to find the time."

"We'll come by when Teddy comes home. Rose and Hugo have been dying to see him."

"So are my three," I say, allowing a small smile to escape. Ron returns it. It's nice talking about happy things. It makes me feel like my own life isn't so trashy. "So new case," I continue.

"Yeah. I remember reading about Spheer somewhere. Say, did I tell you that George is making a new line of products?"

"No." I'm glad that Ron changed the subject. Work was hard to talk about.

"He's been working on them for years, apparently, ever since the War ended. Really genius stuff. We'll have to show you how it works out..."

I wipe my face with my napkin. It's so much simpler to talk about things before the War, when things were easy and we didn't check behind us every few minutes, or stay up all night, too terrified to sleep. It would be so much easier if things still worked like that. It would be easier if I loved Teddy as much as I did my kids, but I don't. But I can pretend, and in the recesses of the day, like now, doing so is painless.

* * *

**So this is where thins will get a bit more interesting (I hope). Review. **


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